


Pass The Potatoes

by dexf



Series: The Ice and Frost Quadrilogy [4]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dexf/pseuds/dexf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma and Bobby's relationship progresses and Pete Wisdom joins them at the Academy... against his will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pass The Potatoes

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable characters and settings belong to Marvel; I am using them without permission but mean no harm and am making no profit. The plot and original characters, however belong to me. Any and all feedback is appreciated at dexf@sympatico.ca. Redistribution of this tale for profit is illegal. Please do not archive this story without contacting me first to obtain my permission.
> 
> The fanfiction was originally published on the Outside the Lines mailing list in 2001.

" Not a chance, Drake."

" Emma-"

" No."

" Look, Emma, my family is very important to me. They just want to meet you. We have been dating for quite sometime now."

" Drake, I was fourteen the last time I had to meet my lover's parents." Emma looked slightly pained.

" It's not like we're moving in or something, after all. Emma, it's just a dinner."

" Robert, in my experience, it's never just a dinner."

***

Snow Valley was cold in the winter; the kind of soft numbing cold that seeps into the very existence of the world around it. Icy tendrils reaching deep into the earth and everything else, softly creeping in to steal away any warmth. A world of winter, with a fresh skin of snow and bones of ice, buried deep.

Bobby Drake loved it.

Even as a kid, he loved the winter. A time when a well aimed snowball was defense against the largest bully, and comradery was forged by the simple fact that he who stood alone, quickly got snowed within an inch of his life by those who stood together. Rivers of ice, like silver tracery, wound through the tracts of pine forest around the school. Snow drifts muted the angles of the world, turning sharp pines into lushly curved mounds and steep ravines into white cradles. The crisp biting air, driving like a blade into his lungs, reminding him that he was alive. There was something about winter, alright.

Drake sculpted a perfect snowball, a task he was uniquely suited for. It was fluffy enough to explode on impact, solid enough to sting, and just wet enough to guarantee that part of it would seep down the recipients collar.

With a careless grin, Drake sighted and lobbed a perfect throw; everything right with his world-

" Arrgghhh!!!! Frosty, you no good cheatin' sno-kone!" - and everything cold and wet in Jubilee's.

" Come on, Lee. Wolvie didn't teach you to be 'the best at what you do' in a snowball fight?"

" Iceman! Your name is Ice-freaking-man! I call that an unfair advantage!"

" The rest of the kids aren't complaining.."

" That's 'cause you already froze their butts off!" Jubilee dove behind a drift, seconds ahead of a barrage of iceballs.

" Hey, this was your idea." Bobby smirked. It had been rather fun to watch Monet roll Everett up into a giant snowball and turn him into a snowman on the school's front lawn. Jono and Paige disappeared half way into the outing, each more interested in generating angst and longing for each other than getting involved in a snow war. Angelo had been appointed to look after the kids, and was in the process of have all six extra feet of skin throughly snowed by them. Bobby switched back to his human form, amusing himself by dumping snow heavily on Jubilee's hiding spot.

{{ Robert, Sean and I have returned. How are the children?}} Emma's precise tones resonated through her telepathic link.

{{ They're cool.}}

{{ Robert, what exactly are you doing?}} Emma asked, but was drowned out by Jubilee's battle cry as she emerged from behind the snowbank like an avenging fury, a giant wedge of snow raised over her head.

" Take this, popsicle!" The pile of snow caught Bobby before he could change into his ice-form. He reeled back, a blast of pyrotechnics driving him to the ground. Jubilee landed on top of him, crushing handfuls of snow into his face and down his shirt. He kicked her off only to get tripped back down on her. They struggled in the snow, getting snow down shirts, up noses, and into pants.

" This does not look very good, you know." Emma said, standing over the tangle of limbs and scowling. Bobby and Jubilee looked up from the snow at her. Drake did realize that holding open the pants of a teenager, even to shove snow down them, was likely a questionable activity at best. His thoughts in this direction were interrupted by Jubilee sparking directly into Emma's face and tackling her. Knowing that he'd pay for it later, Bobby followed, raining snow down liberally on the various sensitive and normally warm regions of Emma Frost.

***

" Aye, is tha' so?" Sean cradled the phone in the crook of his shoulder as he stirred his coffee. The healthy dollop of Irish Creme that Sean used as a 'medicinal' swirled in a tan vortex, as he tried to divide his attentions.

" Well, if I have t' be, I have t' be. Let me tell Emma and I'll be away this evenin' ." Sean said, dropping the phone back on the cradle and fortifying himself with a healthy swallow of the laced coffee.

Sean Cassidy was a man who believed in duty, beyond all things. And when they conflicted, he was far from a happy man. Not only did it give him feeling of guilt, but this time it made things difficult for Emma Frost.

That usually resulted in Emma Frost making things difficult for the rest of the world.

" Emma?" He asked, walking into the den. Frost wrapped in a robe, beside the fire, casting poisonous looks at Drake and Jubilee on the couch.

" Trouble in paradise?"

" If I get the flu, you are a dead man, Robert."

" Emma, it was fun."

" That most certainly was not my idea of fun."

" Yeah, but ya can't spend every minute in vaseline coated leather, ya know." Jubilee piped up. Sean choked on his coffee as Emma and Bobby coloured.

" Jubilation..." Emma growled.

" Right, 'shut up Jubilation. To your room, Jubilation. I'll be up to beat you with the rubber hose later, Jubilation.' Ya, I know the drill." Jubilee got up to leave.

" Well, she does have a point about the leath-"

" Shut up, Drake!" Emma snapped. Sean shook his head.

" Look, I jus' got a call from Meath county. My family land holdings are bein' challenged by a real estate consortium, and I have t' go and get the deeds and papers of my land and tenants." Sean drained the last of his coffee. " I'm leaving tonight."

" Sean, that sort of legal action could take weeks to sort through." Emma pointed out.

" Aye, it could."

" Wait, if you go, who's going to watch the kids tomorrow night while we're at my parents?" Bobby said.

" Well, I simply cannot neglect my responsibilities here." Frost said, slapping her hands together. " I'm afraid we will simply have to reschedule the dinner with your parents." She ignored Bobby's scowl at her.

" There is no need for that." Emma's smile disappeared as Sean went on. " One of the X-Men will be able t' look after the bairns."

" Oh great," Jubilee snorted. " If we get Betts again, remind me to shoot myself."

***

" I suppose we can find a place for him." Scott said, easing the crick in his neck from hours on the phone. Maintaining the already thin number of the Professor's contacts was still a handful. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, already trying to decide what to do with this new trouble.

" So, Moira. This might sound weird, but from everything I've heard about this character, he's not much of a mixer in the first place. Why would he come to you with a problem? Seems very unlike his description."

" He's nae smart enough ta understand how bad 'e is hurting, Scott. With the little birdies telling us Black Air might be up and running again, England th' last place I want 'im."

" I'm sure he can take care of himself."

" Laddie, this spaleen doesna 'ave the common sense t' realize 'is loss yet. When 'e does, it's goin' t' be harsh. If Black Air decides to go after 'im then, 'e is a dead man."

" Right. Well, that excludes the mansion for obvious reasons. Let me call up Nathan or Sean. I'm sure they can help. Are you sure he'll come?"

" Course."

" How can you be so sure?"

" I drugged 'is coffee and had Brian trundle 'm on the plane twenty minutes ago. 'e'll be in a near coma until about twenty minutes before landing."

" You sound like you enjoyed that, Moira."

" I admit nothing."

***

As airports go, New York had an unfortunate reputation for losing valuables; luggage, bags, packages, and, in this case, mutant Englishmen. Sean chewed nervously on his bottom lip as he scoured the arrival gate, Bobby casting about the departures just in case of a mix up.

" Yer sure his plane landed?" Sean asked the girl at the arrivals desk. She smiled helplessly and pointed out his plane.

" Sir, Mr. Wisdom was listed on the plane but we have no record of him debarking. Perhaps he missed his flight?"

" Nay, not this one. Where did the plane come in?"

" Runway six, on the east pad."

" Thank you." Sean trotted to the window and quickly found the correct runway. Using skills honed over the years in Interpol and later with the X-Men, it was easy for him to quickly assess how the diminutive Englishman had slipped through security, however it was skills honed in an entirely arena which allowed him to determine where he had gone.

" Bobby, meet me at the Terminal bar."

***

" Don't you think you've had enough, sir?" The bartender cleared a path to the man's face through the shot glasses. The man looked around him for a second and turned back.

" The bloody walls 'aven't started pulsating yet, so I guess not. Same again." Pete Wisdom tapped his glass and lit another cigarette. The bartender sighed and poured another double in front of him.

Occasionally, life has a remarkable ability to execute a paradigm shift on an individual. It can, for example, take a lonely, embittered, alcoholic, tarnished assassin, and change him to the side of angels, with a lady love and a life of hope ahead of him. It can also, for example, take the same man months later and put him back to the way things were. This has led to an acceptance of the randomness of life in an overall sense to the populace. Pete Wisdom has always hated them, and feels no problem with hating life as well. One of the few people who has that knack. However, his canny mind and intuition was still working enough to tell him that the sudden appearance of Sean Cassidy and Robert Drake seemed destined to hinder his current dive into the bottom of the bottle.

"Mister Wisdom. I'd like to thank you for coming-"

"Shut up. If tha' bloody ol' jock hadn' have drugged me up with one of her foul concoctions, I'd be 'appily giving me liver a healthy dose of straight poison in London right now. So don't thank me for a bloody thing." Wisdom snarled at Drake, taking a heavy swallow of his whiskey.

"Mister Wisdom, I didn't mean to-"

"You don't have a bloody clue wot you mean or don't mean, Drake."

"Let me handle this, Bobby." Sean said, leaning in beside Wisdom. He took a look at the glass in Wisdom's hand and gestured for another. Absentmindedly whistling under his breath, he ignored the shorter man until his drink arrived. Sean shushed Drake with a raised hand, and tipped back his drink.

"Ach, foul back water stuff. No a patch on my home brew."

"Who cares?"

"You should, Pete my lad." Sean grinned widely and grabbed him by the collar. Wisdom twisted, jamming his thumb into the locus of Sean's hand, trying to paralyze it. However, the older Irishman was having none of it, snapping an elbow neatly across Pete's eyebrow. Wisdom reeled back, and found himself tossed out the open window of the airport bar. The ground, three stories below, came rushing up at him, and he could only think that Moira would have a chuckle out of this end. Before he could impact into the unforgiving tarmac, a hand grabbed the back of his jacket and began to climb.

"And a foine morning for flying, wouldn't you say?" Sean yelled over the wind as they rocketed upwards. Wisdom fought back the bile rising in the back of his throat, twisting in the grasp of the man.

"Let me the fuck go!"

"C'mon, Pete lad. I thought you were looking ta die. At least, based on how you've been drinkin'."

"That's me own business, you soddin' bastard! Put me back onna ground!"

"At what velocity?" Sean laughed and skimmed low over the Grassy Bay, Wisdom still firm in his grasp.

"Don play bloody games wit-"

"Wisdom, if you want ta drink yourself ta Hades, that's your concern, but not when you're with us. I've got some kids that need babysitting, and we figured you'd be the man to do it."

"I was wrong. Drop me now."

"What?"

"I hate kids. Crying, whining, nasty-arsed, selfish, little wankers wit out a worry in the world. I'd rather swim innat soup you call a waterway then babysit." Wisdom said, arms folded and looking as defiant as a man being carried airborne can look.

"Fine." Sean smiled and let go.

"Bloody fucking hell-" Was all Wisdom choked out before he hit the frigid water. He went under, lungs seized by an icy hand, expelling all his air in one rush. He thrashed and kicked, finally coming back to the surface. Sean hovered just out of his reach.

"Well, the caring tough love routine is no much of use with ye, so here's me second proposal. Agree to look about the bairns, and I won't leave ye to freeze to death in here." Wisdom made a face as he agreed, like the decision was a close one. Banshee grabbed the man and streaked low over the airport to the parking lot. Wisdom glared out from his huddle, trying to ignore the cold knifing through them.

"I've gonna get you and that bloody Scots harridan for this, mate." As threatening as that said through chattering teeth could be.

***

"Glad ta see you lot keep yourself inconspicuous like." Wisdom smirked as he entered the grand foyer of the school. "No one ever notices the rich twisted fuckos in the big house, eh?"

"Um–" Bobby said, desperately wishing that someone would relieve him of his duties with the Englishman. Pete Wisdom's sullen silence in the car had far exceeded any verbal tongue lashing he'd ever received. Some people could make a statement in their silences; Wisdom could fit a ranting diatribe into his.

"So, aren't you going to be the good host and offer me a drink?"

"Sure. What's your–"

"Scotch. Leave the bottle."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Which is why I don't remember asking your opinion on it, squire."

"Uh..." Bobby was saved as Emma came down the staircase. Pete Wisdom watched as she reached the lobby and began to cough explosively.

"Oh bloody– *hack* –fucking *cough* –Frost!"

"Um, you know each other?" Bobby said, watching Wisdom take several steps back from Emma, dropping into a fighting crouch. Emma sighed and shook her head, obviously annoyed at the reaction from the dark haired Englishman.

"Mister Wisdom, I see you've failed to read up on the activities of the Xavier associates in your Excalibur files?"

"You even make an eyebrow twitch an' I'll put a hot knife through it."

"I think not. Mister Wisdom, if you could relax from that ridiculous parody of a fighting stance, we can have a drink and fill you in on the situation here. I am the headmistress of this school."

"Headmistress? More like bloody nightmare in white leather."

"When I need to be, yes. What I am right now is late, irritated and completely happy to scour your brain like a brillo pad if you don't stop pointing fingers at me." Emma said icily, and Bobby stepped between the two, his hands held up.

"Look, it's alright, Pete. Xavier appointed her here."

"Then he's gone round the twist again."

"This was, um, before the whole... incident."

"Then he's–" Pete was cut off abruptly as Emma seized hold of his upper registers and took control of his body. Wisdom snarled obscenities as he was forced to march into the living room and collapse on the couch. Emma placed a glass of scotch in his limp hand, and let go of the control over him. He immediately shot to his feet, livid with anger.

"How dare you–"

"Use a mind trick to stop you acting like a paranoid lunatic? Simple. You had reached the end of my patience, Mister Wisdom. Now, since you know that I can at any time take over your mind and blow every blood vessel in it, the fact that I haven't should be proof enough of my relative non-hostile status."

"If you ever try that again I'll–"

"Be controlled just as easily as this time. Don't delude yourself, Mister Wisdom. Now, if we can put this ugly little incident behind us, we can talk about tonight." Emma Frost arranged herself on the couch and smiled winningly at Wisdom. "The fact is that we need you."

"Just like in Liverpool?"

"I hate to be the dim one here, but what is going on between you two here?" Drake interjected.

"It goes back to the Hellfire Club days, Robert. I was in England with the London chapter, doing a little business deal and site hit outside of Liverpool. The site was a Black Air installation that was experimenting with a mutant detector which Shaw wanted for his Sentinel program. Mister Wisdom had the luck of running across our command post while returning from a bender in the city, and was nearly killed by us." Emma said, obviously uncomfortable at reliving the events of her Hellfire Club days. Wisdom shook his head.

"Nearly? I had bloody third degree burns, four broken ribs and a concussion when the soddin' assault team pulled me out of the line of fire. You were commanding."

"No, I was observing. London's Black Rook was in command, as I remember. In any case, it was a long time ago, in circumstances that no longer have any relevance."

"Says the woman who doesn't have a six inch scar on her arse."

"Mister Wisdom, we simply need an adult to watch the student while we're away tonight. They are not difficult charges, but do tend to run a little wild without supervision." Emma caught Wisdom in her bright blue glare. "It is the opinion of Doctor MacTaggart that a period of rest in a non-hostile environment like the school will also give you a chance to recuperate as well."

"I'm sure a house full'a brats will really let me relax. Do I have a choice in this deal?"

"Look, Pete–" Bobby said, but a black glare from the man cut him short.

"Of course. We are not your jailors or commanders. We need your help, and in return, we'll give you a... vacation of sorts here. You can walk out that door if you wish."

"And you'll let me go back to the airport and home?"

"Absolutely."

Pete Wisdom got up from the couch and wandering over to the sideboard, refilling his drink. While he was far from happy at the circumstances, the idea of a few days to lay low appealed to him. Black Air had been making noises about him in London. In fact, the only reason that he'd gone to visit Muir Island again was to throw off the scent for a few days. Even at the cost of a pack of kids, the school was protected and would allow him to start planning for a bit of a counterstrike at his former employer.

"Fine. How many kids?"

"Seven. The Fantastic Four has taken the others for a few days with Franklin. Penance is in the Danger Grotto for now, so you won't need to worry about her. The others, however–" Emma sighed. "They will test your authority as far as they can. I will have my cell phone with me should you–"

"I'm not some spotty fifteen year old. I can handle a few kids."

"I'll be sure to have that engraved on your tombstone." Emma said nastily and Pete flipped her a two-fingered salute. "In any case, we can be contacted if you need to."

"Right. I'll bear that in bloody mind."

"Indeed. Now, let me summon the children, and we can be on our way." Emma said, with a touch of reluctance in her voice. Drake shot her a look, and turned to find his jacket.

"Not happy to be off to dinner, Frost?" Pete said, an evil gleam on his eyes.

"I'm sure it's none of your concern, Mister Wisdom." Emma turned her back on Wisdom and concentrated for a moment. {{Students. If you will join us all in the foyer immediately.}} There was a telepathic mutter of assent, and the rumbling sounds of feet on the floor upstairs. Pete sank down into a chair with his drink as the members of Generation X piled into the living room.

"Now, students, I'd like to introduce you all to Mister Wisdom." They peered curiously at the thin scruffy figure hunched in the overstuffed chair. "He has graciously agreed to keep an eye on you while I'm away this evening. We have a very long drive, so it will be quite late when Robert and I return. So, until tomorrow, Mister Wisdom is in charge of the estate. That includes all areas of it, including defense and threat response if necessary."

"Threat response?" Pete said suspiciously from the depths of the chair, and was ignored.

"Now, I'm sure you will all be on your best behavior for Mister Wisdom," Emma stressed her words carefully, subtly indicating that anyone not on their best behavior for Wisdom would hear about it in detail. "Now, Mister Wisdom, is there anything you need before we leave?"

"Uh, nah. I don't think so. The bra– kids and me will be alright, right."

"Very good. We'll be leaving in a few minutes then. Robert, I'll be ready in a moment. Would you like to get the car?"

"Uh, sure." Bobby said, following Emma out. He waited until they were well out of the living room before he leaned over to Emma. "Um, Emma, I don't think this is a good idea after all."

"On the contrary, Robert, I think Mister Wisdom will be perfect for the children. However, if you really want to cancel the dinner with–"

"No, no. I just–well, I'm not sure about Pete and those kids."

"Robert, let me ask you something. If you take a person to a jail to really teach them a lesson about crime, do you leave them in the front with the police officers?"

Bobby opened his mouth and closed it, half in awe and in horror of Emma. She kissed him on the cheek and steered him towards the door.

"Get the car, Robert. I'll see you in a moment."

***

"So, er, I'm Pete, right."

"Of course, Mistah Wisdom."

"You're Paige, right?"

"Yes sir. How did you know?"

"Pryde told me about your brother enough times." Pete declined to mention that he'd responded that no way could there be two people that redneck. "I don't really know the rest of you lot."

"Well, that's Ev, and Jono. He's, like, English to, you know. The grey guy over there is Angelo, and you know Hayseed, an' that's Monet, but her real name is Ed. Surgery, you know?" Jubilee said, with a wicked smile on her face. M sniffed and shot a pointed look at Jubilee.

"Please, do not take Mister Wisdom for a mind bottomed to the same level as yours, Jubilee. Besides, if any of us qualifies as a former man, well, a moment nude in front of the mirror should give even you a clue about who's body most resembles one." Monet said calmly, and sat down on the couch.

"Lousy bitch." Jubilee muttered, turning red. "Just 'cause you got big tits doesn't mean you ain't a stuck up witch."

Pete looked between the fuming girls and rolled his eyes. He'd forgotten how much he'd hated school at this age, and exactly why. He refreshed his drink and sat back down. "So, what is it you lot do, anyway?"

"Usual stuff, you know." Angelo shrugged.

"Like get ratted at the pub, throw up on some bird's shoes and get into a fight wit' her bloody huge boyfriend?" Pete said, pulling up scenes from his own childhood.

"Not real–" Paige started, but was cut out by Angelo.

"Si, that's close. Senor Wisdom, we normally spend it down at the bar in town." Angelo said, a huge grin on his face. Everett opened his mouth but a sharp kick from Jono shut it again.

{{Shut it, mate. Let Angelo work.}}

{{But, we can't get in, and, well, you can't drink anyway!}} Everett responded, but Jono shook his head.

{{I can tap into people's minds while they're drunk. Gives me a buzz like a dozen pints of Harp. And I could use a few tonight, right.}}

{{But, we've got no ID!}}

{{Leave it to Angelo.}}

The telepathic argument went unnoticed as Angelo sat describing their average night, inventing details like mad.

"So, this place has good draft, right? Not this bloody American shite?"

"Oh yeah. It's called Mad Apples. All sorts of stuff, man."

"Frost lets you get away with fake ID's and that bollocks?"

"It's all Irish's idea, ya know? He's like, well, Irish, so he thinks it's like training or something." Jubilee piped up.

"That right?" Wisdom looked at the rest of the team, who nodded slowly.

"Um, yeah. It's not every night, you know. But, sometimes..." Ev said lamely, interested in a night at the bar, even over his discomfort at lying about it. Monet was tapping her bottom lip with her index finger thoughtfully as she watched Wisdom, and finally nodded.

"Yes, occasionally we go there. It's plebeian, but services. More of a special event than anything."

"And English being here is like a special event, right?" Jubilee said. She was standing on Paige's foot and hammering down every time the blonde haired girl opened her mouth. Paige finally nodded as well.

"Well, jus' fer one drink, right Mistah Wisdom?"

"It's always just one drink, luv. Right, well, um, get yourselves cleaned up or ready or whatever it is you bloody well do and we'll head in. I'll call the cab."

"Cab?"

"I don't expect to be driving, luv."

Paige's eyes went wide as Jubilee and Everett hustled her upstairs. Pete Wisdom watched them go and smiled. They were definitely teenagers: sneaky little bastards ready to lie at the drop of a hat. He grinned wolfishly.

"This is a school, innit? Time for tonight's lesson, then."

***

Bobby Drake pulled his car around and tried to calm his nerves. Despite all that he'd seen, faced, fought and been, he still held that primal fear of disappointment and displeasure from his parents. He figured even Apocalypse must be a little cowed by his mother, although the idea of him being berating for tracking mud into the house stayed with Drake for a long and amusing moment.

Frankly, he was worried about how his parents would react to Emma Frost. They'd been wary of Zelda, with her freewheeling and avant-garde friends. Opal his father had hated outright, and showed no attempts to hide the fact. Even his brief time with Lorna had been silently frowned upon. It was as if his father never wanted him to have a happy relationship, and his mother had been silent on the issue.

Emma was rich, white, and educated. She had refined manners, lived in the upper crust of society and was a self-made businesswoman. Drake mused about what they were sure to find undesirable about her. Muddy shoes, maybe? Doesn't point her little finger as she drinks coffee? Bobby shook his head and gently chided himself. Tonight was going to be fine. Unless Emma decided on that white leather outfit with the riding crop and the thigh high boots for tonight. Drake fought down a rising panic as Emma come out of the house, and sighed.

She'd changed into a fairly simple white dress, and a white sweater overtop. She pulled on her long white coat, and pulled the door behind her. Her jewelry was understated, as was her makeup; only hints of rouge and eyeliner to accentuate the already well formed lines of her face. Bobby opened her door and kissed her briefly.

"You look great, Em." Frost glared at him sharply. "–ma." He finished lamely.

"Thank you, Robert. I trust your parents will approve."

"Why would you be worried about that?" Bobby said.

"Because you've thought of little else for the past week, Robert." She smiled wickedly. "No, I have all the naughty unacceptable things under the dress."

"Really? Well, why don't we–"

"Dinner, Robert?" Emma said firmly. "We wouldn't want to be late."

Bobby hesitated, torn between fidel loyalty and his own appreciation of Emma's lusty nature. Loyalty won out and he shut her door and climbed back into the driver's seat. Emma settled back into the car and relaxed for the long drive.

"Are you sure we can't–"

"It's a long way to your parents house, Robert. We really should be going."

With a pained sigh, Bobby pulled the car out of the driveway and turned towards the highway.

***

"I still don't see how we're going to get in, guys. Look, Wisdom aside, none of us looks 21!" Everett said to the groans of the others.

{{Look, Ev, Jubilee said she can get us real ID's, right luv?}}

"Correctamundo, Yorkshire. How do you think Irish and Frosty get those phat falsies they use for us every time we, like, blitz out of the country and stuff?" Jubilee chirped, leading the group down towards the central computer bay. "Trust me, I'll get the cards, dude. Now we have an even tougher job after I do that."

"That being?"

"Making Paige look cool for the bar."

"That's not funny, Jubilee."

"Sorry Hayseed!" She yelled back and opened up the door to the giant computer bay. Inside, monitors created in Star Trek set proportions hummed and whirred in the cool air. The main computer bay of the school held not only the myriad of Shi'ar systems that regulated the house and the other connections to the rest of the X-bases, but also those running the Danger Grotto, security systems and even down to the basic computers in the student's rooms.

Jubilee flopped down in the chair at the main system and began hitting keys. Angelo and Everett exchanged a surprised look.

"Um, Jubes? Since when did you learn the main computer system?" Ev said finally.

"Since Doom3 tournament started offering prizes, Ev." Jubilee grinned. "Only way to play, boys. You get bored every so often, and start poking around. That's where I found most of Irish's files. And Frosty's porn."

"What?"

"Nevermind." Jubilee grinned and tapped a few keys. "And viola! Irish handy-dandy make your own identification files. You want a Swiss passport, Angelo?"

"I always wanted to be Japanese, chica." He grinned in response.

"Ah can't believe we are doing this..." Paige muttered.

"Relax Hayseed. I'll give you a new ID, and even lie about yer weight for yer driver's licence." Jubilee shot back.

"Ah never–"

"Can we just make those cards? Drinking time is wasting, right."

"Right!" Jubilee cracked her knuckles and smiled. "What those years just pile up, guys!"

***

The snow hadn't let up by the time Bobby pulled the car into the driveway of the Drake residence. Emma watched the soft snowfall in a quiet trance, lulled by the peaceful drive and the isolation of the road. For a telepath of her level, humanity was a constant dull roar in the back of her mind; like living on the seashore, with the sound of the ocean always in your ears.

"Emma? You ready?"

Emma smiled warmly at him and took a deep breath. Already the anxious auras of Bobby's parents had appeared on the edge of her consciousness. With a final steadying breath, she took his hand and stepped out into the snow.

"Of course, Robert. Let's go meet your parents."

"It'll be great, Emma. Really! My parents are going to love you, you know."

"Never assume, Robert." Emma looked at the house. "It's a long way until dessert."

"Oh, right. Well... right." Bobby said, and took her arm. He carefully ascended the short but icy steps to the freshly shoveled patio and rapped on the door. It felt weird, knocking on his own door, but he felt it was necessary.

"Bobby!" His mother opened the door and beamed at her only son. Madeline Drake was a short, grey haired old-guard mother of the community. You could have cut bread on the creases in her sheets, and her cooking was straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. It was almost easy to categorize her until you learned that she defended a mutant son against an entire town.

"Hi Mom." Bobby kissed her briefly and grinned. "I smell roast. Am I right? Huh?"

"Of course. Your favourite."

"With the little potatoes and the--"

"Robert Drake! I'm ashamed of you. You haven't even introduced your young lady, who must be freezing out on the porch." Madeline broke in, cutting Bobby off.

"Good evening, Mrs. Drake. I'm Emma."

"Call me Maddie, dear. Please, come in. I'm sorry. I'm a bit of a mess. I was just putting the vegetables on the stove when you knocked." Madeline patted her gray hair anxiously and fussed as Bobby hung up their coats.

"You look great, Ma. As always."

"Hush Bobby."

"Where's Dad?"

"He's in the den, watching the game. Why don't you say hello while I look after Emma. Bring him another beer." Madeline said, with a pointed look. Bobby nodded and sighed, taking two beers from the fridge and heading off to deal with his father.

"Would you like a drink, Emma?" Madeline said warmly. Emma returned the smile, as she looked at the house.

"A small gin, if you don't mind?"

"Oh, yes." Madeline ushered her into the living room and bustled at the sideboard, pouring a small gin for Emma and a rather larger sherry for herself. She passed over the glass and sat down on the couch.

"Well... isn't this nice." She said finally, covering her nervous smile with a sip of sherry.

"You have a lovely home, Madeline."

"Oh, it's not really much, you know. I'm sure you're used to much grander things. I remember seeing a picture of you at the Governor's mansion last month."

"Business is like that. Half takes place in the office, and the rest during parties and political fundraisers. Fortunately, I'm normally spared most of that." Emma said.

"Oh really?"

"I spend most of my day at the school these days, Madeline. My assistant and my board of directors do the bulk of the work at Frost Industries."

"Really?"

"I had a long illness, and have been slowly easing back into the full duties of business." Emma smiled. "Fortunately, Robert has been a tremendous support."

"That's Bobby. Always a helpful boy. You know, when he was a young child, both William and I worked."

"Robert never mentioned that."

"Heavens yes. I was a nurse. That's how we met, actually. William suffered a leg injury in the Army, and used to have physical rehabilitation every week. A month in, I was assigned to his case, and, well, you know how it happens."

"Yes, I do."

"In any case, money was tight after Robert was born, so I used to work night shifts at the hospital while William was at work during the day. So, when I got home and made Bobby his lunch, I used to go and lay down for a while. Bobby would put a blanket over me on the couch and watch his cartoons and Sesame Street, telling everyone that 'he was taking care of Mommy'." Both women laughed. "He always was a good boy. I think that's why he followed Xavier for so long."

"Are you proud of him?"

"Oh yes. I'm proud and I'm terribly afraid for him. Emma, you won't understand until you have children of your own, but the idea of Bobby not coming home from one of his adventures gnaws at me. It's like having a son off at war. You only pray he makes it home."

"I know a little of what that feels like. To lose someone you've cared for as a mother." Emma stared into her glass and swirled the contents contemplatively.

"Oh, here I am carrying on while dinner is almost ready. You must be starved after that drive. Come to the table. Let me get everything ready."

"What about Robert and William?"

"Oh, Bobby will get his father to the table soon."

***

"Hey Dad. Brought you another beer." Bobby stepped down into the den and handed the bottle to his father. William Drake nodded at his son from his chair.

"Can you believe this? Three to nothing, and we're still not out of the first period yet!" William said, pointing to the television. Bobby sank down on a chair beside his father and watched a Ranger wingman get crushed into the boards. "Oh, look at this! Pass, you retard! The puck goes into the net, you know!"

"Rangers should draft you to coach, Dad."

"You're right about that. How was the drive, Bobby?"

"Not bad. Left about four."

"I could have made it faster. Did you take the Landsdowne cutoff like I told you?"

"Well, I didn't want to leave the expressway."

"No, you take the cutoff and slide down Barnen road. Saves you at least a half hour. I told you that."

"Sorry Dad. There wasn't a rush anyhow."

"Hmm." William opened his beer and sipped it. "So, did you bring her?"

Bobby took a long pull out of his own bottle to calm himself. "Yes Dad, I brought Emma. Just like I told you."

"Huh..." William sipped again. "We didn't get any caviar, you know."

"Dad, Emma doesn't--"

"And no fancy meat, either. It's a roast. I hope she can eat working man's food."

"Dad--"

"I think I have some fancy coffee for dessert though."

"Dad, Emma is not some snobby socialite. She wanted to come to dinner and meet you two." Bobby shot back, annoyed with his father's tone.

"Well, it's not champagne and pate here." William muttered and turned back to his game. Bobby stifled a comment and settled back into his chair, fuming silently.

***

"Right, ground rules then. I feel since I'm the responsible adult type, I should set some, right?"

"Sure thing, Mister W!" Jubilee was practically squirming in her seat, excited at a night at the bar in front of them.

"Right. Who here has a credit card?" Four of them raised their hands. "Pass them over. Nothing more dangerous than a drunken teen wit' a credit card, like." The cards were grudgingly produced, and Pete stuffed them into his jacket.

"Right, do you all have cash?"

They all nodded.

"You've all got yer ID?"

They all nodded.

"An you're all buying me at least one drink?"

They all nodded.

"Excellent. Let's hit the bar." His comment was met with a cheer, and they vacated the extended cab and queued up in front of the bar. The bouncer shifted slightly in the cold as they got to the front of the line.

"ID." He said in a bored voice. Pete flipped his over with a grin.

"You might want to check if it's false, bollocks." He said with a wicked smile, and the bouncer tossed the cards back at him. "These are my mates."

"Right." The bouncer fixed Jubilee with a stare and took her card. "You are not...." He peered at the card. "Twenty-four."

"Fer'sure. Hey, Petey, he doesn't believe me!" Jubilee crowed, vamping outrageously. Her outfit of bright red spandex and the trademark yellow trenchcoat was bordering on both stylish and garish.

"Hey, mate, you know those Asian types, right? Look twelve until they're eighty?"

The bouncer glared at Pete and turned back to the card. He ran it under the black light, picked at it with a thumb nail and even rubbed at the picture before he handed it back.

"Alright, go ahead." All of the students went through the same procedure, with the bouncer just finally waving them through to avoid a headache.

Mad Apples was a typical bar, with dim lighting, a packed dance floor and decorated in dark wood, old pop and gas station sighs, and amusingly old sport equipment. The television at the front of the bar was set to a Ranger's game, but five minutes and a slipped fifty dollar bill saw it changed to a Manchester/Arsenal game. The bartender, an Irishman named Sean, wondered over to the group and wiped the bar in front of them.

"Ladies. Gentlemen." He winked and Paige turned red. "Orders?"

"Are you the bartender?" Jubilee said, and Pete rolled his eyes.

"Sure I am. Some people call me a fast bartender. And some people call me a slow bartender, not neither of them is correct?"

"Then what are you?" Monet said, with a raised eyebrow."

"I'm a half-fast bartender." Sean said with a grin. "Now, what's yours?"

"Pint of Caffrey's."

"Um, Budweiser?"

"Rum and coke."

"Gin martini."

"Ah, coke?" Jubilee kicked Paige sharply in the ankle. "Rum and coke, I mean."

"And for you, beautiful?" Sean asked Jubilee, who grinned back at him.

"I'd like a Long Slow Screw... and a Karaoka with extra cherries." She said, and Sean nodded.

"So, this is an American bar." Pete noted, after picking up his pint. "Not bad, not bad. Good for a drink or two." He smiled as he watched the teenagers attack their drinks. It would be good entertainment in a few hours, if he was any judge.

***

"Dinner is served." Madeline said, putting the loaded tray down on the table.

"Looks great, Mom." Bobby said, as his father scowled.

"I'm sorry, but it's just a normal cut of roast, Miss Frost. Old Jimmy at the deli isn't all that cultured, but he knows working man's cuts, you know." William said. Emma watched both Bobby and Madeline flinch, and turned to him.

"I have no doubt. I haven't had a good roast in a long time. I'm quite looking forward to it."

"Well, it's not five-star gourmet or anything."

"Oh William, you're holding up dinner. Pass the platter and open that bottle of wine Bobby brought." Madeline said, trying to defuse the situation. She smiled warmly at Emma. "I've never had that brand."

"Wolf Blass is Australian, Madeline. Quite nice, in fact. Bobby found it."

"Really? When you develop a taste for wines?"

"Well, it started with Zelda, actually, but I got into the habit of trying all different types. Mostly with Hank or Emma. Hank says hi, by the way."

"That's nice. Isn't that nice, William?"

"Fancy wines too. Most have cost an arm and a leg for this wine. I used to be happy with the one they sold at the deli. Three dollar red, not some fancy fifty dollar bottle of wine." William Drake said, staring straight at Emma. She met his gaze calmly, and a half smile curled on her lip.

"Indeed, but Wolf Blass does compliment the meal so much better than Mad Dog 20-20." She said, and William froze for a minute. Bobby took the bottle from his father's hands and pulled the cork.

"Wine, Mom?"

"Yes dear." Madeline tried to break the tension that had gripped the table. "Emma was telling me about her business."

"Working all the time, you know." Bobby grinned. "Business leader and teacher. It's a wonder I ever get to see her at all."

"I was thinking the same thing." William said, calmly shoveling roast into his mouth. Bobby tensed, but Emma's hand on his arm quieted him.

"Um, more wine anyone?" Madeline said desperately, as the table settled into a long and uncomfortable silence.

***

"She only had one drink, I swear!" Jubilee said, as the table watched Paige on the dance floor. She had been going for half an hour so far, and had acquired a cowboy hat from somewhere in the crowd. A line of men was dancing around her, as she hollered, waved her hat and steadily lost buttons from her shirt. Wisdom motioned for another pint and leaned back in his chair. He's pull her out if things got bad, but for now, he was content to let the girl go.

"I think you might have to go get her." Everett said, but Jubilee shook her head.

"No way. Sean is coming with my drink."

"What's this one?"

"A Tequila Sunrise... I think."

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"No even close." Jubilee grinned.

"I'll keep an eye on her." Monet said, and drained the last of her martini. She's been ordering a steady stream of them since the night began, but seemed unaffected.

"Thanks M." Angelo said and turned back to Everett and Jono. "So, amigos, who do you think? I would have said Jubilee, but watching Paige out there."

"Well, she did grow up in the country."

{{Or Monet? Tha' superior thing could be an act, like.}}

"True. And she does have the best body..."

Pete Wisdom listened to the conversation and watched the drinks with a critical eye. It was his own teen years in a nutshell. However, for this lot, there was a little lesson soon to be discovered by Professor Wisdom.

"Professor W. That's what they should call me." He grinned in the gloom and sipped his pint.

***

"That was wonderful, Madeline." Emma said as she finished her meal. In fact, she'd be modestly surprised. Madeline Drake was far from a poor cook, and the meal had been delicious. The conversation, however, had left much to be desired. Bobby and his mother had provided most of it, around William's not so subtle barbs.

"Thank you, Emma. Dessert?"

"Just coffee, if you would."

"Can't expect to serve just chocolate cake, can you? We could make up some fancy french name for you, if you'd like." William said, and Bobby tossed down his fork.

"Dad, that's enough."

"Bobby!"

"I'm sorry Mom, but I've had it up to here with--"

{{Robert, let it go.}}

{{No. The old man has to--}}

{{Robert, let me handle this.}}

{{But--}}

{{Please.}} The thought carried with it an emphasis, and Bobby was momentarily taken aback. Emma rarely asked for anything like that. He looked at her for a moment, still in position from his indignant compliant. Finally, he settled back.

"Mom, you need a hand with coffee?"

"Yes, Bobby." Madeline smiled at her son, having picked up Emma's intentions without the benefit of telepathy. It was a female thing. "Clear the plates, dear."

Emma watched them leave, laden with dishes between them, and took another sip of her wine.

"So, Mister Drake. I take it you don't like me much."

"We used to have a thing called tact in my day."

"Manners as well, but seeing as that went out the window at the start of dinner, let's be frank." Emma's voice had a hard, cold edge to it, and she met William's glare without the hint of wavering. "Would you care to tell me about it, or do we spin this out over a number of years?"

"I love my son, Miss Frost. He's a bit misguided, but he's a good boy. Always has been, when he's not in the process of screwing up his own life."

"And you think he's screwing up his life with me?"

"He's been from one end of the universe to the other, met all kinds of people and done all kinds of things. But deep-down, he's still the small town boy he was when he left here. So I get to thinking, what does that high and mighty business leader want with a small town boy. It doesn't take long to see what's really going on." William practically spat the last sentence. Emma stared at him for a moment and fought to keep the anger from her eyes.

"Let me see if I get this straight. Are you insinuating that I'm using Robert as some mutant superhero version of a pool boy?"

"I'm saying that rich women usually want one thing out of small town boys, and it isn't their art appreciation skills."

Emma laughed.

William tensed at the table with anger, as Emma fought to keep herself under control, her laughter ringing in the small dining room. Finally, she wiped her eyes and stared at William, a smile still quirking her mouth.

"Dear me, William. That's the issue? You're afraid I'm using Robert?"

"I don't see what's so funny, you know." William said, and Emma waved him down.

"No, I'm not laughing at you, William. Bobby told me a lot about you, and I suppose I should have seen this coming." Emma smiled. "I heard about your actions at the Creed rally, and during Bobby's youth. I should have known. You're a very protective man, William."

"Man who doesn't protect his family isn't much of a man."

"Which is why you've been harsh on every woman Robert has ever been interested in."

"I have not been--"

"You have, William, Extremely. What are you looking for?"

William gulped his wine, deeply uncomfortable at the calm blue gaze leveled at him. "I want Bobby to be happy. Someone who understands him. You don't understand what he's been through. What's he's risked and lost--"

"Yes William, I do. More than many others, I do." Emma felt any anger disappear. William Drake was not as unlike her as he might think. He had the same fierce and hidden love for Bobby as she had for the Hellions, and her current students. William stared at his wineglass for a long moment, and then looked up at Emma.

"I might have been wrong about you, Emma. Might, mind you."

"And I might have two very fine cigars in my long coat, Mister Drake. Can I interest you?"

William started, and then started to laugh.

"You're some kind of woman, Emma."

"That I am, William. That I am."

***

"And then I sez to him, I sez, 'Hey, just 'cuz you got weird mouthy thingies on your hands, you think your so tough'. And you know what I did then? You know what I did?" Angelo said drunkenly, punching Wisdom in the shoulder.

"I dunno mate. What did you do then?"

"I kicked him right in the stones! That's right. Right inna family jewels. Bet his grandfather felt that hit." Angelo wavering and waved at Sean. "Can I get 'nother rum and coke here, amigo! An' some tequila. You'll drink tequila with me, won't you, cabron?"

"Tequila is piss filtered through a Mexican. I'll pass." Pete grinned and turned Angelo towards Jono, who was holding his head and groaning. The telepath had touched his friend's minds to get drunk, and had instead hotwired himself into the drunken consciousness of the bar. If he still had a stomach, he'd have puked up his ring an hour ago.

"Cheers." Pete took stock of his charges. Paige was still on the dance floor, getting dangerously close with a tall beefy man who looked like he was on leave from the Marines. Monet was back at the table, a creative and dangerous stack of empty martini glasses steadily growing in front of her. Everett was the most sober, sipping long neck Buds and keeping a worried eye on both Paige and Jubilee.

Monet suddenly paused, and sat ramrod straight in her chair, staring sightlessly at the dance floor. Everett went over to her.

"Oh man. Pete, Monet's just gone into one of her trances."

"Trances?"

"She just zones out sometimes. Stares straight ahead and doesn't talk to us. Five of us couldn't move her the last time it happened." Everett fussed around her, his mind already filled with images of trying to get her out of the bar without announcing themselves as mutants to all of the patrons.

"Ev?"

"Yeah."

Pete reached out with one finger and pushed Monet on the shoulder. The dark-hair mutant's eyes rolled up in her head and she slowly but inexorably crashed headfirst into the table. Wisdom looked at Ev, who was staring open-mouthed at the comatose form.

"Ev?"

"Yeah?"

"Have another drink." Pete turned from the shocked teen and took a look for his other charges.

Jubilee had worked her way steadily down the cocktail list, and had been growing bolder and bolder as Sean brought over each drink.

"Hey, Pete!" She yelled and Wisdom patted her on the head.

"Yes?"

"I wanna buy you a drink, dude! Look, we gotten do this shooter, wassit called, Sean?"

"A blowjob, Jubilee."

"Right. We gotta do a blowjob together, man." Jubilee eyed the red-haired bartender. "And then I gotta do one by myself."

"Don't do cocktails, Jubilee. You knock yourself out though." Wisdom said, and motioned Sean over. The bartender brought over another pint and leaned down to listen to Wisdom. "Look, mate, that girl over there, right?"

"Yes?"

"No matter what, touch her and you've pulled yer last pint, right?"

"To be brutally honest, sir, I'd be more like to hit on you."

"A fag Irishman?"

"I could say 'top of the morning' over breakfast if you'd like?"

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks for the tip."

"Cheers. Just remember that in my tip."

"Bollocks." Wisdom grinned as Sean returned to his station. He drained half of the pint of Harp's and suddenly put it down. He caught a vague glimpse of Paige heading out the door with the table of Marines, and swore softly. He fought his way through the dance floor and out the door, catching sight of her standing reluctantly outside of a truck.

"Ah don't think ah should--"

"Come on, baby. You'll love it."

"But--"

"Look, get in the truck. You love every inch, I swear."

"Sorry bollocks." Pete Wisdom said, appearing suddenly at Paige's side. "The girl isn't coming wit' you."

"Oh really, asshole?" The truck and the one beside it disgorged a half dozen men. "And what if I say she is?"

"Then I'll have to cripple you."

"Oh yeah?" The man crossed his arms, with his muscles moving like small continents under his shirt. Pete grinned up at the man, almost wanting to savour the moment.

"Yer in the Army, right?"

"Marines, dickhead."

"Ever heard of the SAS?"

"Yeah."

"I used to beat them up for beer money. You want to do three rounds with me over some bird, mate?"

"I--"

"Last chance."

"Hey, fuck yo--" He never got a chance to complete the sentence as Pete clamped a hand on his windpipe and dropped him to the hood of the truck. Wisdom smiled evilly, and tightened his grip.

"Let me rephrase my question, mate. Do you really want me to kill you and your friends over some bird?"

The marine, beet red and gasping nodded.

"Excellent. We understand each other." The other Marines had edged away, seeing the viper speed of the small Englishman. "Now, off you go, right."

They backed away, and Wisdom watched them until their taillights had streaked off down the road. He collected Paige from the sidewalk and led her back inside.

"Come on then, luv. You'll do better with a drink in you."

"What did they want ta do, Mistah Wisdom?"

"Likely stick their pricks in any hole they could find on you, gel." Paige stared wide-eyed at him, and he gave her a crooked smile. "Not while I'm around, luv."

"Thanks, Mistah Wisdom."

"Call me Professor W."

***

"Coffee, anyone..." Bobby trailed off lamely, finding the dining room empty. "Um, Dad, Emma?"

"Bobby, what's going on?"

"Well, we lost the others, Mom."

"They are out on the porch. Didn't you hear the door?"

"No?"

"Aren't you supposed to be a superhero, Bobby?" Madeline jibed gently from the kitchen. Bobby grinned back at her.

"Doesn't go well with the accounting degree, Mom." He took the tray of coffee and carefully stepped out on to the porch. Emma and his father stood at the railing, smoking cigars and chatting animatedly.

"So, when the Senator decided to get a little grabby, I had to both put him to the ground, and cancel the support of Frost Industries to his campaign. Never was re-elected."

"I remember him. Nasty piece of work, I thought. So, what do you think of this budget?"

"It's flawed in a number of--- oh, hello, Robert."

"Hey Emma. Dad. Um, coffee?"

"Oh, wonderful. William."

"I'll take a cup. Bobby, why didn't you tell us that Emma was involved in politics?"

"Um, I didn't--"

"It's alright. I've been rather inactive lately."

"Damn shame." William snubbed out his cigar and turned towards the house. "I guess it's time for coffee. Emma?"

"Be there in just a minute, William." William took the tray from Bobby's unprotesting grip and walked into the house. Bobby stood in shock as his father walked past him.

"Bring her around again, Bobby." His father said quietly as he passed. Bobby stayed motionless for a long time and finally turned to Emma.

"You didn't..."

"Robert! Do you honestly think that I would?"

"Well, no, but– Emma, if that's my old man, then reality just cracked and turned sideways. What happened?"

"Nothing that shouldn't have some time ago."

"You sure you didn't use even a bit of telepathy?"

"Robert, something you need to learn is that telepathy is the easy way of you changing someone else's mind for them. Now getting them to change their own minds, that takes skill."

***

"Oh gawd..." Jubilee moaned as they pulled her from the cab and half-dragged, half-carried her into the house. Angelo and Jono struggled drunkenly under the weight of Monet, while Everett and Paige dragged in Jubilee. Wisdom tipped the driver handsomely and followed them into the mansion. They all staggered into the living room and collapsed. Pete went over to the sideboard and poured himself a scotch.

"Any of you want a nightcap?" He said cheerfully, and was answered by a chorus of groans. Jubilee rolled over and began making mewling noises. Everett pulled himself from the couch and helped her up.

"Come on, Jubilee. Time for another visit to the Danger Toilet." He said, helping her out.

"No one else? You lot sure?" Paige clutched her head and moaned. "Maybe you should all turn in then." They all muttered in agreement and slowly staggered out. Wisdom sat down on the couch and smiled as they left. He could hear the agonized groans, sounds of retching and general stumbling of the drunken teens.

"Yup, that was my teenaged years, alright." Pete said, and picked up the remote and the scotch bottle. "I guess the sideboard counts as the fridge, then."

***

"The snow has started again." Emma said as they pulled into the drive of the mansion. Bobby nodded, parking the car and opening the door. Emma laid a hand on his arm and stopped him midway. "Robert, are you alright?"

"Amazed, more like. I have never, in my entire life, been with someone who has impressed my parents. How?" Bobby said.

"By being myself." Bobby opened his mouth but Emma overrode him. "Which includes not putting up with nonsense from anyone. Even your father."

Bobby looked at her and laughed, shaking his head. He helped Emma from the car and up the icy walk, still chuckling. Frost smiled and keyed open the front door. The house was quiet, save for the murmur of the television in the living room. They hung up their coats and headed into the living, to see Pete Wisdom sitting in the recliner, his feet up, a glass of scotch in his hand and a rugby match on the screen.

"Cheers. You lot have a good time then?"

"Um, yes."

"Indeed, we did. How were the children, Mister Wisdom?" Emma said, and Pete grinned at her.

"Oh, fine. Learned a few things, you know. Safe in their beds now."

"What did you teach them?" Bobby asked, amazed.

"Little of this, little of the other." Pete said, nodding at Emma. "Drink?"

"No thank you. We're going to be turning in. I'm sure we'll hear everything in the morning."

"Right then. Oh, just one thing? In the morning, I'd suggest an early morning wake-up call. Something loud, with bagpipes in it." Wisdom's eyes gleamed wickedly and Emma smiled back.

"I think I can arrange something like that. Good night, Mister Wisdom." Emma said, and pulled Bobby along with her, his mouth open and full of questions. They reached the foyer before Bobby was able to stop.

"What was he talking about? Emma, what's going–"

"Robert, did you ever drink underage?"

"Uh, a couple times. In fact, I remember this one birthday I had were Warren, Hank and I got totally–"

"Yes, well, I think that's what Mister Wisdom was speaking of."

"He took them drinking?"

Emma grinned uncharacteristically. "I would say so."

"But–" Bobby started, but Emma silenced him with a kiss.

"Are you that reluctant to see the rest of my outfit, Robert?"

"But, the– wait. The rest of the outfit?" Emma nodded. "Um..."

"Come along, Robert. I think I need to find my bed." Emma looked over her shoulder at him. "And if you're very lucky, you might get to find me in it."

Bobby paused for a moment, and then smiled. Then he smiled more, and followed her up the stairs and into her room.

***

Events in life do not come with neat epilogues. However, if they did, this one might start with a stereo on the main floor of the mansion. The volume setting for most people to listen to is about eight. For Jubilee, it's about thirteen until Cassidy begins yelling at her. At twenty, the people who own the farm down the road have to calm their livestock. At twenty-four, you can make anyone in the west wing wet themselves. This morning, it happened to be at twenty-seven. An empty cd case for 'The Highland Pipes and Drums' sat on top of the player, and the track number blinking on the LED display matched up with 'Scotland the Brave' on the back. The play counter started it's progression, and the speakers swelled with the booming notes of the Northern pipes.

The screams coming from almost every room in the house created a wonderful counterpoint to anyone who might have been listening. But no one was, of course. Because life doesn't have epilogues, now does it?


End file.
